


25 Days of Qoole!

by alex_kade



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), National Treasure (2004), National Treasure (Movies), National Treasure: Book of Secrets (2007), SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Advent Calendar, Angst, Christmas, Cuil Theory proves it, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone's Invited!, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I've got 25 fics to play with!, Love Triangle, M/M, Qoole, Qoole was written in destiny, because I love 00Q and Qoole equally, idk - Freeform, maybe some smut, this is becoming dangerously close to turning into Q00le, we'll see if I can actually pull this off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_kade/pseuds/alex_kade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-five whole days of Qoole and the crew! Some fluff, some romance, some pain, some tears, some adventures, and all such things that could possibly happen between the characters of the National Treasure and James Bond universes (which we all know means double the shenanigany trouble). </p><p>AKA, an Advent Calendar of short drabbles where anything and everything could happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frozen

**Author's Note:**

> I just started seeing these Advent Calendar thingies popping up all over the place, and thought it would be a fantastic opportunity to really ship my Qoole concept. Now we just have to see if I can find a few minutes each day to pull this off. I already started a day late! But I believe in myself! We can do this!

"...Do you want to build a sno-"

"-Riley, I swear on everything unholy, if you dare start singing that song, I will...will...gah, I can't even think right now. It's too cold."

Riley smirked as he wrapped another blanket around the still-shivering Q, then sat down behind him on the pile of sleeping bags lining the tent floor, hugging him tightly against his body. They had  _way_ too much stuff for a regular camping trip, but Riley was grateful for all of it now, for giving in to all of Q's whining about wanting to be prepared for anything. At the moment it was almost sweltering in the tent between all the blankets and the fire kept up high just outside it, but Riley wasn't going to complain. He wasn't the one who had slipped down the embankment into the creek's freezing-temperature waters. Not that Q had been fully submerged or anything remotely close to it, but still, being even a little wet could lead to hypothermia if not dealt with quickly. That thought hadn't stopped Riley from laughing at his partner, though, as they trudged back up to the tent and got Q stripped out of his damp clothing. Q was not nearly as amused.

"I don't know how you convinced me to go camping in the middle of bloody winter," he grumbled for the millionth time. "I hate the cold and I don't even like camping."

Riley stuck out his lower lip in a pout. "Because snowmen and s'mores and hot chocolate and snuggle time," he whined as he propped his chin on Q's shoulder.

Q let out an exasperated huff before he turned his head and pecked his boyfriend quickly on the cheek. "And because for some godforsaken reason, I love you. Now will you please undress and get under these blankets with me. I could use a bit of snuggle time right now before I freeze to death."

Riley, for once in his life, did exactly as told. Q didn't even have to tell him twice. 

~The End!~


	2. With My Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're making it work, but the long distance is hard, especially after an overly rough mission. Sometimes a different kind of comfort is needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a hint, a tiny hint of 00Q, but with a promise of more to come...

"Q, it's okay," Riley said quietly, always with that damnable soft smile on his lips.

Q sniffled and scrubbed away a betraying tear that had somehow escaped his control. "It's  _not_. We're making this work. We're  _supposed_ to make this work. I don't want-"

"You don't want to be alone right now, I get it," Riley answered, and Q immediately began to shake his head, his expression mortified. Riley ignored it and kept talking before his partner could attempt a protest. "Really, it's  _fine_. I can't be there right now and you need someone to be. I'm cool with it being Bond. I kind of thought you two were already a thing when I met you, anyway. All the banter and the tension and the-"

"Riley, stop!"

Of course he would twist it into a joke. It  _wasn't_ a joke. Q did not cheat on his partners, even with something as innocent as a kiss, and yet somehow it had happened. He didn't exactly know how, but it  _had,_ and he wasn't proud of it. The fact that something inside of him wanted it to be more made him feel that much worse.

It had happened at the end of a terrible mission, one in which an agent had nearly been lost (and could still be depending on how he faired in Medical), leaving the Quartermaster holed up in his office for hours pouring over everything to see if there could've been something he missed, some little detail he could've done differently to save his agent from harm. He couldn't find anything, but for some reason that only made it worse, knowing he could perform perfectly and still lose someone he cared about. It was enough to put him on the brink of a meltdown when Bond had strolled in, cool and calm and so utterly  _understanding_. There were no words, just a hand on a shoulder, a look that didn't say,  _Everything is going to be okay,_ but rather,  _I've been there, and we'll get through this;_ an embrace that lasted perhaps a little too long as Q was given a much-needed shoulder to press his face into, one that allowed him to keep his angry tears at bay; and then a kiss, a long, soft, gentle kiss, one that took all his cares temporarily away from the tragedy of the day. Q couldn't remember at this point whether it was Bond who had initiated the kiss, or whether he, himself, had stolen it from his agent. All he knew was that he  _needed_ it, had  _wanted_ it, and it hadn't come from his partner. _  
_

And here Riley was, seemingly  _okay_ with his confession when he should've been anything  _but_.

"You know we never actually get to keep anything, right?" the man in question abruptly stated.

Q furled his brow at him. "What?"

"Treasure hunter, remember? You always seem to forget that part." He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "The treasure we unbury, we never get to keep it. Some country or indigenous people or long lost relative of some important old dude in history - they always stake claims on what we find the second we get it out into the open. It's never _ours,_ but we've learned to be happy with what we can get."

The Quartermaster blinked in slow surprise as it dawned on him what Riley was saying. It was utterly ridiculous. "Riley...I'm not one of your _treasures_. I am your  _partner_. You very nearly died for me. I am supposed to be faithfully yours, one hundred percent."

"If that's the basis for judging whether or not we should keep treasure, we'd own this whole country by now. I almost die at least six times on every treasure hunt we go on." The hacker snorted out a slightly bitter laugh. "And not to get all sappy on you, but you _are_ a treasure...one that belongs to Queen and Country. You're not mine to keep, Q, you never were. I knew that a long time ago. It's  _okay._ I know how to let go."

But it wasn't, it  _wasn't_ okay, and despite the words being spoken, Q could hear the sadness in Riley's voice saying the exact same thing. The man was resigned to having the things he cared about taken away from him, was just accepting it because that was the sort of life he'd always lead and always expected to lead. It wasn't  _fair_ , knowing this sweet, selfless man would so willingly walk away from something he wanted just to ensure someone else's happiness. Q couldn't do that to him, could never do that to him. Bond was...a physical comfort, a familiar presence when Q had been at a dangerous low, but he wasn't  _this_ , and  _this_ was what Q really wanted.

"I want to be yours," he hedged quietly, "if you would still have me. I  _want_ to be _yours_ , Riley."

Riley kept his eyes down seemingly in conflict, sighing as he thought it over for several minutes before responding. Q held his breath, daring not to hope that his partner would so easily take him back when he'd been so resigned to letting him go only seconds before. 

"Can we make a compromise?" the hacker asked, and continued only after Q gave him a hesitant nod. "No offense, but you're kind of a ticking time bomb, babe. Your job is super stressful, and kind of terrifying, and I think I would've quit like after the second day if I had to do what you do. I can sit here in my safe little apartment and be your emotional rock all day long, but that's not always going to work. I know that. You know that. We're both big boys so we don't need to play pretend about it. If you need...more...you have my permission to do what you need to do. Preferably with Bond. He's kind of hot and mysterious and has that whole bad daddy thing going on-"

"Oh my god, stop!" Q practically squeaked, his face flushing just a tiny bit. "I can't believe you just said that."

"What? It's true. You think I didn't notice?" Riley smirked. "Anyway, I trust him, and so do you, which makes it easier for me. But I don't need the nitty-gritty details! Please don't give me the nitty-gritty details. I just want you to know that I'm okay with it if you need someone else to take care of you. You know, when it gets too hard to do the long distance thing. Maybe not on a super regular basis or anything because then I might start feeling a little insecure, but-"

Q meant to say something to quiet Riley's tendency to put himself down, but instead of scolding him, what came out was a rather sharp and quick:

"-I love you."

The effect was instantaneous, creating one of those rare moments when Riley actually snapped his mouth shut voluntarily, seemingly too stunned to continue on with his usual rambley way of talking.

With nowhere to go but forward now, Riley's sudden silence only encouraged Q to push his luck a little more. "Riley Poole, you are possibly the kindest, smartest, bravest, least selfish human being I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I  _love you._ For all of it."

"...Oh." Riley sat there looking stunned for just a little longer, just long enough to make Q begin to feel nervous all over again before his lips finally quirked up into a tiny smile. "I guess I don't really need to feel insecure, then, right?"

The matching smile grew tenfold on the Quartermaster's face. "Never. I can promise you that. No matter what, always remember that I love  _you._ "

"I love you, too," the hacker replied fondly, then had to ruin the moment with an abrupt clap of his hands. "Okay, now that we've gotten that out of the way, shouldn't you be running off to shag a buff, blond agent right about now?"

Of course he would revert immediately back to his sometimes immature antics. The insufferable man had even pronounced  _shag_ with the British accent. He was impossible, and Q loved him for it. _  
_

"If it's alright..." Q started, picking up his laptop and maneuvering his way to to his bedroom, keeping the cam at an angle where Riley could see  _exactly_ where he was going, "I'd rather be relieving my tensions with you tonight."

"Only if you tell me you love me again while we're having dirty webcam sex. It's kind of hot with the accent."

Q rolled his eyes despite the smile still plastered on his face. He  _would_  tell him, every single day if he had to just make sure the man never felt like he wasn't important - vital, even - to Q's life. In fact, that would be the Quartermaster's mission, to make sure that Riley would never feel under-appreciated or undeserving of what he wanted ever again. It was a mission that Q was all too happy to accept.

"I love you," he said again on a whisper of sincere emotion; and to his delight, Riley, without jest, mimicked it back.

~The End~ 


	3. Christmas Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M holds a Christmas party for the core group of MI6, friends and family welcome, which naturally means that Riley and the Gates are in town for the holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help! I can't stop this fluff! It's swallowing my brain!!!

"Hello," Riley greeted politely as Mallory answered the door and invited him and the Gates into his home. That, however was as far as the hacker's politeness seemed to travel before he spotted Bond chatting up Eve in the middle of the room. Then he was off, giving the agent almost zero prep time before he was hollering his name and leaping up into his arms to be caught like a princess.

"Hi, James!" he grinned, and squished the man's cheeks between his fingers as he continued to speak to him in a cooey, babying tone. "Who's my favorite Double-O?"

Then, before Bond could even think to do anything, Riley pressed his lips to the agent's forced-puckered mouth, planting what could only be described as a sloppy smooch to the other man's lips.

"Thanks for keeping Q sane for me," he smiled, and patted Bond on the shoulder before hopping down and running off in search of his boyfriend.

Bond was left staring after him in utter confusion while Eve laughed her ass off beside him. Q had a similar look on his face, albeit a bit more concerned, as he looked on from his vantage point in the doorway.

"Did you just-?" he began as Riley bounded up to him.

"What?" his partner asked innocently as he closed the gap between them, grabbing onto Q's hips and shamelessly tugging him forward until the two of them were pressed up against each other, Riley resting his forehead against Q's. Then, he asked in a voice that was not quite sultry, and not quite a growl, but something low and definitely  _naughty_ , "Jealous, or did you like it?"

Something like a snicker (absolutely not a giggle) escaped Q's lips as he glanced over Riley's shoulder, seeing how mortified Ben and Abigail looked (mortified and yet still amused) as they apologized to Bond on behalf of Riley's behavior. Bond still looked a little shell-shocked.

"He could've killed you, you know," the Quartermaster informed his boyfriend, all too aware of exactly how dangerous 007 could be.

Riley merely crinkled his nose up, making him look twice as adorable when his face was still just a blur against Q's vision. "Nah. I'm his favorite civilian. Besides, if he hurt me, he'd have to answer to you, and we all know you're the scariest person who works at MI6."

"That I am," Q agreed, grinning as Bond finally made eye contact with him and did nothing but offer up one of his crooked half-smiles at the shenanigans. Good. No hard feelings, then, and just another assurance that his boyfriend and his lover did not seem to be in competition with one another. It was a strange dynamic the three of them had, but one that seemed to work well for all of them without issue. If nothing else, it made Q feel almost a little selfish, like he had the best of all worlds while his partners only seemed to experience one half of it. He had tried to argue about it to both of them once, but neither of them would hear it. It seemed they were perfectly content with their bizarre little triangle exactly how it was, with Bond being promiscuous with whomever he so chose whenever he so chose while still being close to Q, and Riley just being satisfied with all of the emotional and psychological perks of being in a romantic relationship, only taking care of his more primal needs whenever the two of them got a chance to actually visit in person.

Which was apparently what he was practically begging for right now with all the touching and hugging that bordered just on the line of being inappropriate PDA at a holiday party being held by Q's employer.

"Darling, keep it in your pants until we can go home," Q whispered, speaking through what was becoming a very fake smile being displayed for the rest of the people in the room as he struggled to fight off his own sexual desires. 

"Mmm, I love it when you call your apartment our 'home,'" Riley practically purred back, and snuck a little kiss to Q's lips before pulling away like a good boy in front of a houseful of both friends and strangers. It did not stop him from threading his fingers through Q's, though, something that was just fine with the Quartermaster. It wasn't like their relationship was anything secret, hadn't been for a long time. If Ben and Abigail could walk around holding hands without creating a fuss, so could Riley and Q.

The rest of the party beyond that was entertaining, but nothing spectacular. They mingled, exchanged stories, indulged in M's fine taste in caterers, got a little tipsy and made out on the couch after Eve egged them on (okay,  _that_ part was kind of spectacular), said some polite goodbyes, and then finally,  _finally_ , they were able to escape for the evening. Ben and Abigail didn't even bother to ask Riley if he wanted a ride back to the hotel. They already knew where he'd be heading, and that they probably wouldn't see him again until it was time to meet up at the airport for the flight home. Not that they were complaining. It meant yet another romantic trip in London without having to babysit a bored, hyperactive genius. Meeting Q had kind of been the best thing to happen to all parties involved.

So off Riley ran with Q (almost literally ran) to "home," where he greeted Gertrude and Vladimir with all the excitement of a two-year-old meeting a kitten for the first time, melting Q's heart all over again for the millionth time. It was easy to forget how such a simple gesture could make all the difference in the world, the Quartermaster having gotten used to Bond's habit of either ignoring the cats or toeing them away when they got underfoot. The fact that Riley actually loved his cats was precisely one of the many reasons that Q could no longer imagine a life without him. 

Without warning, and with an unusual display of dominance for the Quartermaster, he moved forward, grabbed Riley by his loosened tie, and began to drag him back to the bedroom. To be honest, he was a little surprised that his partner remained silent as he was lead down the hall, half expecting him to make some silly quip about unwrapping his present too early. Instead, the moment they crossed the threshold of the bedroom, Riley nearly pounced, desperate as he tugged buttons apart and pushed sleeves down arms and fumbled with the zipper on Q's trousers.

"Oh my god, I missed you," he breathed into Q's mouth between passionate kisses, and it occurred to Q then that this was how it was always going to be whenever the two reunited, the two of them clashing together out of pure need and desire to be in the other man's presence, multiplied exponentially by Riley's celibacy between visits. It was fabulous and exciting and also a little bit sad because it meant they were never together long enough to be completely satiated before the other would have to leave for untold months. Still, that was an issue that didn't need to be focused on at the moment, not when there were more pressing matters to attend to.

Riley was there, in his room, in his arms, and that was the only thing that mattered for the time being. It would be the perfect ending to a night of perfect holiday cheer, and that was all that either one of them really needed. At least for today.

~The End~


	4. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley and Bond find themselves trapped, giving them a little time to get to know one another better. Or, more appropriately, to annoy each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because that little scene I did between Riley and Bond in the last drabble was too damn fun, so I needed to make a whole story with just the two of them. :)

"How mad do you think he's going to be?" Riley asked as he casually tossed some rocks aside so he could clear himself a space to sit on the ground.

Bond barely offered him a glance, his focus on the wall of stone that had just been brought down to block their one and only exit from what was surely about to become their tomb. Still, apparently Riley took the glance as some sort of answer, granting him permission to keep talking. That was fine, Bond supposed. He knew Riley well enough by that point. When the man got anxious, he babbled, and being trapped far too many feet underground without assistance from or even contact with the outside world was more than reasonable cause for his anxiety.

"Poor guy, his two favorite people in the world - we are his two favorite people in the world, right? That's stupid, of course we are. His two favorite people in the world gone without a trace. Maybe _someone_ should've told him what was going on, then we probably wouldn't be in this mess."

Wait, was Riley actually _blaming_ him? Babbling was one thing, but guilt-tripping was an entirely different matter.

"You didn't tell him, either," Bond huffed over his shoulder.

"You threatened me."

That got the agent to pause in his fruitless search for a way out. With an arched brow, he finally turned around to face his acquaintance. "And you are one of the few people who has never seemed to be intimidated by my threats, so don't start using that as an excuse now."

Riley held his gaze for a moment, again without fear, before a small smile pulled at his lips. "You're scared I'll tell on you and he'll believe me."

"You're damned right," Bond confirmed. "You come off as too bloody innocent whereas I'm a perpetual thorn in his side. He'll have me stopped at every red light in the city for dragging you into this."

Riley's nod was entirely too enthusiastic for Bond's tastes. "Yep, because you _did_ drag me into this...even though you really should've gone after Ben. This is totally up his alley. I think he _likes_ being chased around the world by bad guys."

"That's precisely why I _didn't_ go to him," the agent replied with an obvious scowl. "He's overly reckless. I needed someone with his expertise but with a more rational mind."

At that, Riley let out a surprised bark that dissolved into almost hysterical laughter, leaving the man in tears by the time he was through. "Oh, man, you so got the wrong guy. You should've gone to Abigail. If I was the 'rational' one, I wouldn't _let_ people drag me into these situations."

Shaking his head, Bond went back to poking at the walls. "You _are_ rational. You just suffer from a hyperactive sense of loyalty."

"You make that sound like a disorder."

"It can be." Bond sighed and lightly pounded his fist on the stone in a show of temporary defeat. Turning back around, he took in the minute look of insult on Riley's face, the hint of hurt behind slightly-squinted eyes that were looking off into another time. Bond watched him, studied the expression on his face, and realized he could read him like an open book, and then realized when Riley refocused his gaze on Bond that Riley  _didn't care._ He didn't try to change his expression at all, just let the trained agent continue to analyze him without shame or fear of what the other man might discover.  _This_ was why Q was so drawn to him, because there were no secrets, no lies, no hidden agendas and no hidden feelings. In a world such as the one that Bond and Q and everyone else at MI6 existed in, a world tucked into shadows, Riley might as well have been a ray of pure sunlight. His unabashed honesty was almost blinding, now that Bond was actually  _looking_ at it.

"For you," Bond found himself amending his previous statement. "That sort of loyalty can be very dangerous  _for you._ "

Riley snorted, his whole body moving with it as if expelling the emotions from the slight just moments before. Just like that, no hard feelings still in place, no grudges held. "I'll say. Did you know this is third time I've been left to die in an underground death trap? No, wait, fourth if you count the ship. Yeah. Definitely count the ship."

"That would explain why you're so bloody calm," Bond muttered in part disbelief. Not full surprise, though. He'd already witnessed what sort of trouble the Gates and Riley could get into. Multiple times. Really, they were no better than any of the agents under Q's care...which was what had probably lead Riley to come to the conclusion that had begun this whole conversation in the first place.

Riley was right. Their Quartermaster was going to be  _very_ angry with them. If he found out. Lucky for them, he was enjoying a vacation with his family at the moment, which was really the entire reason behind the secrecy in the first place. Neither Bond nor Riley wanted to interrupt his well-deserved leave. Bond had simply assumed he could handle this particular retrieval mission on his own, just like he used to do before Q came into the picture; and when he found himself in a jam that required someone of Ben's sort of expertise, it wasn't a surprise that he would seek out Riley's assistance - Ben's best friend and assistant for untold years, as well as a man that the Quartermaster put his complete faith in. He was only supposed to help him navigate the hidden tunnel system beneath the city. There weren't  _supposed_  to be criminals involved.

Bond smirked at the thought. What would Q say to that?  _"Of course there were criminals involved! The odds of that happening while you're by yourself are already at an exponential high. Add Riley into the mix and you may as well bake a cake and serve it at your criminal welcoming party!"_

"You're smiling," Riley needlessly pointed out.

Bond shook his head. "I was thinking about Q. Perhaps it'd be better if we  _don't_ escape."

"Yeaaahhhhh," Riley drew out. His eyes flicked up to the opposite wall for a second before settling back on Bond's, and with a sly grin, he stood up and sauntered over towards whatever he'd just seen. "But that's the funny thing about being loyal. If you can make the person you're loyal to happy, you don't really think about what might happen to _you_."

Without taking his gaze off Bond, he pressed his fingers into the little carvings etched into the wall, forming some pattern as if merely punching a keycode into an alarm system. A second later, the whole room rumbled for a second, then a small hatch opened up in the ground right where Riley had been sitting. Bond, after performing an almost comical double-take, rushed over to inspect the hatch, finding a fast-moving stream of water flowing underneath.

"Lucky for us," Riley continued smugly, "the two of us actually getting out of here alive for him to yell at will make him the happiest."

Bond stared at him. "Did you-"

"Of course I knew," Riley scoffed. "If there's one thing I learned about being Ben's sidekick, it's that there's  _always_ another way out. I just had to wait until the water started flowing. I could feel it from where I was sitting. Speaking of, it's temporary, so we should probably hurry up and dive in before we miss our chance. You can go first."

After another flabbergasted second, a small grin appeared on Bond's face. "Unbelievable."

With that, he latched onto Riley's shirt and pulled him close before stepping into the hole, holding the smaller man against his body as they were washed away from their supposed tomb. Riley was right - Q would be happiest if they both came back from this little adventure in one piece, and Bond would be damned if he was left to take the full brunt of the Quartermaster's wrath should anything happen to the young treasure hunter. No, little shit that Riley could sometimes be, Bond would do everything in his power to keep him safe. For Q. And, admittedly, for himself. God help him, the more he got to know Riley, the more he genuinely liked him, which was bad. Bond? Forming so many emotional attachments to people? The thought of any of them getting hurt?

In the face of Bond's wrath, the world would never be a safe place again.

~The End~ 


	5. Tiny Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond may be the big, muscular, scary assassin, but there are some things that he can't protect the Quartermaster against. 
> 
> Or, the one where Bond needs to call Riley in for a different kind of mission.
> 
> 00Q relations happen, and Qoole snuggles ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's sad, be warned. I tried to keep the sad parts to a minimum, but they're there.
> 
> Also, I'm behind! Ugh! Stupid weekend job interfering with my writings. I'm gonna try to catch up asap!

 

 

 

 

It had started with a phone call. From Bond. And he'd sounded nothing short of somber, his tone nearly giving Riley a heart attack with worry. If Bond was calling him with a voice like that, it could only mean one thing – something had happened to Q.

"Riley, calm down," Bond ordered once he realized that the hacker's breathing had quickened to unnatural levels briefly before abruptly stopping altogether. "Breathe. It isn't what you think."

"So he's okay?" Riley asked almost timidly.

There was a hesitation before the answer, bringing the anxiety back all over again. "He's not injured, but I wouldn't exactly say he's okay," and before Riley could begin freaking out all over again, the agent rushed to explain, albeit with a sigh. "He found a stray kitten a few days ago. It was...not in the best of health. Despite the Quartermaster's best efforts-"

"It didn't make it," Riley finished, parroting Bond's sigh.

Now he understood. As frightening as his boyfriend could be against his enemies (and his own agents), Q was a complete softy when it came to animals. When it came to cats, in particular, Riley was two hundred percent certain that Q's goal for retirement (if he survived that long) was to become his neighborhood's resident crazy cat lady. The only reason he currently only had two was because his impeccable logic wouldn't allow himself to go overboard given the dangerous nature of his job. That wouldn't stop him, however, from trying to save a homeless kitten in need.

"Did he name it already?" he asked, and groaned a little when Bond replied in a tight-lipped tone that the kitten's name had been Tiny. That was bad. If it was unhealthy enough to die within only a few days' time, Q  _had _ to realize the moment he saw the baby that it's odds weren't going to be good. Still, hope, by itself, had been known to work miracles. It could also turn failures into dark pits of devastation.

With a whispered curse, Riley informed Bond that he'd catch the next flight out, fully understanding his role in this particular mission. Bond, with all his experience with death, had learned to harden himself against it to the point where a good consoling shoulder he did not make, particularly over the death of a sick kitten. Not that he hated cats, but he wasn't exactly the pet type, definitely not enough to understand getting attached to one after only a few days. He did know Q, though, and knew that his Quartermaster would be more deeply affected by the death than he would let on. He'd say he was fine and bottle it up, which meant he would be an utter terror to work with for probably the next week unless Riley stepped in to pull the cork from that emotional bottle before things got too bad.

"Thank you, Riley," Bond breathed out on a sigh of relief this time. "I'll try to keep him occupied until you get here."

And he did just that, in the way that only Bond was capable of doing – annoying his Quartermaster nearly to insanity during the last few hours spent at work, and then basically letting Q punish him for his bad behavior that evening with a bit of a raw, rough, and emotionally-spiked tussle that took them through every part of Q's apartment  _except _ onto the bed. 

Then, in the early hours of the morning before the sun had even risen, Riley quietly slipped into the picture, caught a little off guard by the tangle of Bond and Q that he found under a thin blanket right there on the living room floor. He might've turned around and bolted back out into the hall had Bond not been looking at him through lidded eyes, looking half-asleep even though Riley knew that mentally he was probably wide awake, most likely had been since the moment Riley had touched the door handle. Bond had been expecting him, though, so while the sight of the professional assassin laying with his boyfriend was always somewhat jarring to Riley, it was far better than walking into a gun barrel pointed at his face.

"Hi," Riley whispered awkwardly, fidgeting in the doorway. "I'm just going to, uh, step back out for a minute..."

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped away and shut the door, leaning back against the wall with a slow exhale. Q had done his best to put any insecurities Riley had about himself to rest many times over, but still, seeing 007's almost god-like physique in comparison to his own always made him feel a little inadequate. Of course, he was only there right now because  _Bond _ had been feeling inadequate in a whole different department of the relationship. In this case, the agent was merely playing the part of physical distraction; Riley would take over from there in all the rest of the ways that Q needed in order to get through this latest hardship.

The door cracked open within a few minutes, just long enough for Riley to collect himself before Bond poked his head out and motioned for the hacker to come in. He was fully dressed now, wheras Q had merely been bundled into a bathrobe and made to move to the couch, looking for all the world like he was sleeping with his eyes open until his brain registered the new addition to the room.

The effect was instantaneous. First there was surprise in those intelligent green eyes of his, followed by joy, then understanding, and finally a sad relief as his focus flicked from Riley to Bond and back.

"You didn't have to," the Quartermaster stated quietly, addressing them both, and both insisted that they did at nearly the same time. With that, Bond merely bade them a goodnight and slipped out the door, his Q-coddling shift over for the time being.

Once the agent had gone, Riley sat down next to his boyfriend and placed a gentle hand to his knee. "How're you holding up?" 

At that moment, Vladimir and Gertrude, realizing the calmer shift in atmosphere, both seemed to fly onto the couch out of nowhere, Gertie landing in Q's lap while Vlad stepped more purposefully onto Riley's. Almost without thinking, Q wrapped his arms around the larger feline and just hugged her tight like a fluffy teddy bear, burying his face into her long fur for a moment. When he lifted his head just enough for Riley to see his eyes, they were now a deeply startling green, the color shining vibrantly against the shades of surrounding red that accompanied tears.

"I tried," Q almost whimpered. "He was so small."

As his voice broke on the last word, Riley carefully set Vlad aside in favor of tugging his boyfriend down against his shoulder, not bothering to try to wrestle Gertie free from his hold. She was a snuggly cat and knew that at this moment, her human needed something to snuggle. She didn't protest as she was squashed between the two men; in fact, she seemed to be rather content to stay right where she was.

Riley, for his part, didn't say much except to voice a few words of encouragement. Normally a man of far too many words, he also knew when it was simply better to keep quiet. This, for Q, was one of those times. All he needed at the moment was to feel safe in the presence of someone who wouldn't judge him for breaking down over what many people would think to be a small loss. He just needed to vent, to cry, and to have someone hold him and tell him it was going to be alright; and then when he'd worn himself out, to lay with him in the tight confines of the couch, breathing softly against the back of his neck until he finally fell asleep. In the morning, maybe he'd be woken up with the smell of tea and coffee and something grotesquely fatty-American (and  _delicious_ ) emanating from his kitchen. Then there would be a warm shower, or maybe even a bath, enjoyed together just for the companionship of it, just to have someone there to hold him tight if he should start to feel the grief coming on too strong. 

And he would be fine. He would go to work still a bit sad, but fine, nonetheless, and get through his day knowing someone would be home waiting for him, someone who loved him and someone he loved in return.

But that was all for tomorrow. Tonight Q would just sleep, his cats on top of him and his partner a protective shell around him keeping the pains of the world at bay. 

~The End~


	6. Cuil Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tanner and Moneypenny stumble upon a very interesting discovery.
> 
> Or, the one where Qoole inadvertently collides with the order of the cosmos as we know it.
> 
> *note: this contains some very, very minor details that aren't necessarily spoilery, but that haven't yet come up in my ongoing Qoole fics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...I was discussing Qoole with a friend of mine and she laughed, introducing me to the Cuil Theory (pronounced just like Qoole is):
> 
> "A unit of measurement in Cuil Theory for the level of abstraction away from the reality of a situation. It was created to lampoon the terrible search engine capabilities of the Cuil search engine, while providing a functionally stimulating idea about the interrelationship between tangential things.
> 
> The Cuil is represented by the interrobang: ‽\"
> 
> In a nutshell, you go up one Cuil based on basically how far away from the original subject matter the answers take you and how absurd things become. Here is a lovely video showcasing an example of the Cuil Theory in motion:
> 
>  
> 
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfdEdE96En0>
> 
>  
> 
> Now, if you watch the video and therefore see the original Cuil Theory example set forth by Reddit, and if you've read my other Qoole fics, you'll know why (aside from the name), I found this to be hysterically funny. If you haven't read my other fics, no worries. I'll let Eve and Tanner explain it for you...

"Eve!" Tanner whispered.

Her name being hissed caught her completely off guard, despite being accustomed by now to mischievous 00 agents running amok around MI6 whenever they were bored between missions. Perhaps it was because she realized that the voice belonged to none of them, and she most definitely was  _not_ accustomed to such tones coming from their Chief of Staff. He was waving at her now from M's office, his head barely poking out from the door, looking for all the world like an amateur trying to put together plans for a coworker's surprise birthday party and failing at it miserably. Why he didn't just call her into the office like he would have had he needed her for her actual secretarial duties, she would never know. He was watching over things for M while their boss was away for the week, so no one would've batted an eye if he'd simply rang for her in a professional form. Now he was drawing attention.

Which meant whatever he needed to tell her was probably scandalous gossip. Eve  _loved_ scandalous gossip.

Without giving it another thought, she scurried into the room, locking the door behind her. When she turned back around, she found Tanner hovering over M's computer, a look of excitement on his face.

"I've made a remarkable discovery," he informed her, glancing up as she came around the desk. "This may very well rock the very foundation of the universe as we know it."

Oh, this  _had_ to be good. With an eagerness born of childish delight, Eve leaned further into Tanner's space to inspect what he was looking at.

"The Cuil Theory?" she questioned, eyebrows raised at the many tabs opened to various search results on the subject.

Tanner nodded and flipped through the tabs almost too fast for Eve to follow as he explained. "A friend sent me a YouTube video to watch, thinking it to be bizarre and humorous. It is precisely that, but it also inspires a disturbingly deep, philosophical introspection on the interconnectedness of all things in the universe."

Annnnd, things were getting less interesting. This was most definitely not interoffice gossip. Not even remotely. This was just Tanner showing his secret tendency to fanboy over quirky things. She was  _so_ lucky to be on friendly enough terms with the man for him to reveal this side of himself to her (the thought added with enough sarcasm to bludgeon sincerity to death with a rusted shovel).

"Fascinating as this is, Tanner, I do have actual work to get back to," she informed him, preparing to walk away.

"No, Eve,  _no_ ," he pleaded. "This is important. I have evidence to support that this... _insane_ theory may actually be valid, and it has everything to do with our Quartermaster."

Oh. Now  _that_ got her attention again. This might actually be entertaining, after all, if Tanner could somehow convince her that Q and this stupid YouTube farce were somehow tied to the cosmos holding the universe together.

"Let me explain," he went on, relieved that she was deciding to stick around. "There was a search engine that launched in 2008 called Cuil that was intended to replace Google, but it failed miserably. The system was built around trying to reduce the number of search results on a given topic by combining relative hits to single sources."

"I'm...not really following," Moneypenny admitted. This was getting dull again.

Tanner huffed in frustration. "An example. If you searched Tom Cruise and went far enough down the list of results, you would not see separate listings for Tom Cruise the actor, and then need to jump to a new search to find  _Top Gun_  and then jump to a new search to find information about fighter jets. On Cuil, you may instead have gotten a result that combined all the interconnected points with a heading along the line of, 'Tom is a jet flying at cruising altitudes over a goose.' All the information is there, just jumbled around until it is no longer an accurate representation of its original subject matter."

"That's dumb," said with zero class, and Moneypenny couldn't care less.

"Exactly," Tanner nodded. "Hence why the company went belly-up in short order, but not until the Reddit community came up with the ridiculing science behind Cuil and created the Cuil Theory. See, a Cuil is a system of measurement designed to showcase each increment of abstraction as we move away from the reality of the initial subject matter. The higher the Cuil measurement, the more abstract the theory, but without ever losing the interconnection between the subjects being referred to. They're all just being looked at in a different angle, allowing us to see the world in an entirely different light."

This was back to being boring.

"Tanner. Get to the point. What does any of this have to do with Q?"

Oh, and how Tanner's face lit up at her prompting. This was going to either be very good, or very, very idiotic.

"The Cuil Theory, in all it's ridicule, was spot on accurate in it's display of universal connectivity." He paused for dramatic effect as if he could almost hear a drumroll. Eve gave him a roll of her eyes, instead. "Eve, this theory _predicted the future_ , and we're seeing it played out right here in our office!"

"With Q." An annoyed and disbelieving statement, not a question.

It did nothing to deter Tanner's excitement. "Yes! With Q! Q and Riley, to be precise."

That got her eyebrows quirking up. The ongoing tryst between the international hackers always made for good romantic subject material. She waved her hand at Bill, allowing him to continue.

"Riley and Q. Q and Riley  _Poole_. If we were playing the game of combining the names of two lovers together-"

"Oh my god, Tanner," Eve huffed. "Making the word Qoole out of their names is a coincidence, not a sign that this stupid theory can predict the entire future."

Tanner flashed her a knowing grin, silencing her skepticism for a moment. Clearly he was onto something and that did, admittedly, make her curious.

"By itself, no, but listen to this," he muttered.

He hit play on the YouTube video that had started this whole mess. It took all of three seconds for Eve to start to understand.

_"You ask me for a Hamburger."_

Riley and Q had begun their actual bond over a joke revolving around the Hamburgler. Technically it started with the word  _cheeseburger_ and they'd been referred to as "The Cheeseburger Twins" once or twice, but still, the odd link was there.

 _" **1 Cuil:**_ _if you asked me for a hamburger, and I gave you a raccoon."_

A raccoon. A thief. Riley and Q had used the weird cheeseburger code to track down the man who had been hacking into systems and stealing secrets for his organization. MI6 had asked the two to break the code, and they'd handed M the thief in return.

_" **2 Cuils:** If you asked me for a hamburger, but it turns out I don't really exist. Where I was originally standing, a picture of a hamburger rests on the ground._

It wasn't long after before Riley had disappeared. Eve had caught Q staring at a printout of the Hamburgler image Riley had recreated for him and stuck on his wall as a celebratory joke after they'd caught the enemy hacker. Q still had that picture on his wall, framed and protected forever.

_" **3 Cuils:**  You awake as a hamburger. You start screaming only to have special sauce fly from your lips. The world is in sepia."_

Riley had been tortured for days--beaten, bloody, his voice raw from screaming, his lips tainted red as he'd choked on his own blood, his entire universe washed in the dim light of his cell.

_" **4 Cuils:**  Why are we speaking German? A mime cries softly as he cradles a young cow. Your grandfather stares at you as the cow falls apart into patties. You look down only to see me with pickles for eyes, I am singing the song that gives birth to the universe."_

Eve nearly choked. They had found Riley in the hands of German captors. Q, who always moved a bit like a dancer, his thoughts displayed in his gestures as easily as they formed on his lips, crying as he cradled the broken and vulnerable and fading Riley to his chest while Bond looked on from behind. And Riley, who's eyes had been completely swollen shut, confessed to Riley on what could've been a dying breath that he'd gone through hell to protect  _him_. He had changed Q's entire world with that confession, and the two, though an ocean apart, had still somehow been nearly inseparable since.

"Enough," Eve said quietly, shaking her head, more than a little jarred by this whole discovery. She added lamely, "It's all just coincidence."

"Is it, Eve?" Tanner pressed. "Think about it."

She didn't want to. She liked her universe firmly set in place with its easy-to-understand rules. She didn't want to be lost in the depths of wondering how every one thing was somehow connected to the other. It was too bizarre.

_And yet..._

As she walked to her desk, she couldn't help but think that maybe it was also a little romantic, as if the two had honestly been fated to meet and fall in love and be soulmates for the rest of all eternity; and the fact that this was pointed out to her via a running internet gag could actually not have been more perfect for the two of them. 

Okay. Maybe she'd let Tanner's crazy theories slide into her psyche, just this once. It was just to beautifully perfect to pass up. 

 _Qoole_. She shook her head. Too bloody, romantically, geekily perfect.

~The End~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See?!?!?
> 
> Seriously, I did not know anything at all about the Cuil theory until just before I wrote this, and ya'll can see the time stamp that I began the Qoole relationship in the way that I did well before now.
> 
> Coincidence? Am I secretly psychic? Or maybe, just maybe, the Cuil Theory holds some merit and the universe is telling me that Qoole was supposed to exist all along... You decide.
> 
> (*note - I stole the Tom Cruise example from the friend that was explaining this to me and embellished on it a bit because I couldn't remember her exact wording. Some of you may know her as [MostFacinorous](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/works). She's written a couple Bond fics, herself, and is responsible for my obsession with Ben Whishaw.)


	7. Tables Turned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley knew it could happen, but when it does, he isn't nearly as prepared as he thinks.
> 
> Or the one with hospitalized!Q.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I need more angst in my life, apparently.

When Q finally clawed his way out of the darkness, the first thing his brain registered was the sound of an obnoxious, steady beep.  _Heart monitor_ , his mind instantly supplied. Medical, then. But why? He didn't feel any pain, didn't remember getting shot at or stabbed or anything remotely violent. In fact, the last thing he remembered was enjoying a nice, authentic Italian meal with Riley, who had been visiting for the weekend.

_Riley._

If being out on a date with his boyfriend was the last thing he could remember, and now he was waking up in Medical, then where was Riley?

The beeping picked up as Q forced away the rest of the fog clouding his thoughts, prying his eyes open through what felt like cement trying to glue his lashes together. His first goal was to call out to anyone who may have been nearby, to ask about Riley, to find out what happened to his lover-

-except he didn't need to because the first person he saw when his blurred vision finally cleared _was_ Riley. Safe. Unharmed. Staring at him with an eerily passive expression through shadowed, red-rimmed eyes.

"Is this how it felt?" the hacker asked, his voice so low that Q nearly didn't catch it. He looked...dead inside. It was terrifying.

"I don't-" Q tried to reply, but his own voice came out in a painful rasp. At his wince, Riley absently reached for a cup sitting on the bedside table and pulled out an ice chip, slipping it onto Q's tongue when he graciously opened his mouth to accept it.

Riley stared down at the cup in his hands for a moment. "I refilled it every time it melted. It was the only thing I could do."

"How long?" Q asked, his voice still a whisper but at least it didn't scratch at his throat as much.

"Three days."

Still, that dead tone of voice. This wasn't his Riley. Even when the tables had been turned, his wily treasure hunter had woken with a smart comment on his lips. His Riley was cheerful and witty, or at the very least extremely expressive. This Riley was...hollow.

Q inched his hand towards the edge of the mattress. If felt like lead. His whole body felt like lead. Moving was proving to be difficult, but still, he'd managed.

Riley stared at the hand, but didn't take it. Was Q imagining this? Was he being rejected? By his Riley? At the burning thought, he found himself almost glad to be in Medical because surely he'd have wound up there, anyway, with the shattering of his heart.

"I'm sorry," the hacker whispered, closing his eyes against the moisture that suddenly built up along his lower lids. Tears welled up anyway and spilled over, leaving salty trails down his cheeks, and now Q wasn't certain if this was any better than the hollow Riley, after all. It seemed like he was saying goodbye, and it was ripping the Quartermaster to pieces.

"Why?" he forced himself to ask, and though he wanted to join Riley in his sadness, he found it somehow impossible to produce tears of his own. He felt as if he'd drown in them if they couldn't be released.

The paper cup slipped from Riley's hands as he wrapped them around his head, his fingers clasped behind it as he hid his face between his arms. Then he sucked in a breath. Held it. And sobbed. It was as if a dam had been broken, and he was suddenly crying all the tears for both his own sadness and the sadness that Q couldn't seem to shed.

"I thought you were going to die!" he choked out, and though it was broken and halted, Q still understood him perfectly. "There was...poison, and...three days...and I was so scared, and...and...you were gone, Q. You were right here, but you were just... _gone_."

He broke down into a wordless mess, his breaths halted and desperate as he choked on his sorrow, the emotional outpour a result of too many times where he'd had to be the subtle rock - not just for Q, but for everyone. Riley was the one with the smart mouth and jovial attitude, the one that could be scared, act as much, but he was never truly rattled. He cried when he was happy, but he was the one who offered up the shoulder when everyone else was sad. He wasn't the one that people ran to in the face of danger, he wasn't the one slated to protect their bodies, but he was one who volunteered to protect all of their hearts.

And for three days there had been no one to protect his.

"Shhh, it's okay," Q tried to sooth, wanting to reach for him, to stroke his hair,  _anything_ , but he just couldn't seem to get his hand to lift off the bed.

"It's  _not_ okay," Riley spat out. "It's not okay. I did this to you."

"Did this? The poison?" No, that couldn't be right. Riley couldn't possibly have been responsible for this.

That was confirmed when his partner's head shot up, his face expressing nothing but pure shock and horror at the very notion of him having put his beloved Q into the hospital.

"No,  _no,_ " he babbled out, desperate as he finally reached for Q's hand, holding it in both of his. "I'd never do that! I'd never..."

His words trailed out as the sobs took over again, but this time Q was able to reassure him, making his fingers work enough to give his hand as tight a squeeze as possible. They sat that way for several more minutes until Riley could get himself further under control, better able to explain.

"I meant," he sucked in a wavering breath, "this is what I did to you when I was gone, when I..." He brushed his hand down his abdomen, tracing the scar beneath his shirt. "This is how you felt. And I was gone longer than three days. I hurt you for so much longer. I  _hurt_ you."

"Oh, Riley," Q breathed. Leave it to him to beat himself up over something that was far beyond his control. "You came back. That's all...all that mattered. Just like I came back to you."

Talking was hard. His voice still wasn't coming out in much more than a whisper, but the message got through loud and clear. The downside of it was that his ready forgiveness only seemed to upset Riley all over again. He didn't feel like he deserved it, Q could tell as much. He knew Riley well enough to read where his thoughts were stemming from, now that he understood what was triggering this breakdown. Riley knew his role well, and in his past desire to protect Q from bodily harm, he had caused him terrible emotional harm, nonetheless. He'd known that, of course, had spent well over a month dealing with Q's guilt over Riley's torture and near death, but now he truly  _got it._  Now he fully understood the turmoil that his selfless actions had caused Q, and that knowledge was destroying him.

"Riley, please," the Quartermaster begged, finally feeling tears pricking at his vision. His mind absently supplied that the poison must have caused some sort of full and long lasting paralysis, but that wasn't important now. What was important was to get Riley to calm down before he truly began to hyperventilate. "Please, I--" he tried again, but then a thought struck him, a tactic that might work better than forgiving and begging. He moaned slightly. "My throat hurts."

And just like that, Riley seemed to come back to himself a bit, fumbling a little to see where the ice had gone and seeming confused to see the cup on the floor. "I...um...I'll go refill this. I'll be back. I'll bring a doctor. I should probably bring a doctor, right?"

He sniffed and scrubbed his arm across his face, looking so uncertain, so lost. It was so unlike him.

"Yes, the doctor," Q replied, giving his lover some direction, an anchor of sorts to hold onto. It was enough for now, and with a curt nod, Riley scurried out the door. Q heard him mutter a startled apology a moment later from somewhere in the hall, and then Bond was suddenly in his room, his entry silent as snowflakes on a winter morning. He did not say hello. He did not say it was good to see his Quartermaster awake. He did not ask how Q felt.

Instead, he glanced back at the hallway with a sad smile. "Good to see him back. He's been nearly catatonic for days."

Q sighed and shut his eyes. "He's not back. Not himself."

Bond wrapped a supportive hand around his arm. "You'll get him there, Q. We know you will."

Yes. That's exactly what he would do. He would recover, and help Riley center himself again, because lord knew he'd done it enough for everybody else. It was Riley's turn to break, and it was Q's turn to help him through it, and they would both be fine in the end. They had to be, because now they were both standing in the other's shoes, and if they could get through this, then they could both get through anything. 

They _would_ get through everything.

They would get through  _everything._

It would be a mantra that Q would never, ever forget.

~The End~ 


	8. Figuring It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a few times, but eventually Q figures out the best way to get to America on a plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Riley can't always be the one to do the traveling.

The first time he tried, Q took one step into the airport, and then promptly turned around and walked back out, shortly thereafter heaping guilt-laden apologies onto Riley over his cell. Riley simply smirked and said to him, "I told you so."

The second time, Q made all it the way into the terminal, then just sat there while the plane took off. He'd taken the proper dose of anxiety medication beforehand, but they pretty much wound up spinning down the toilets in every bathroom he passed on the  _way_ to the terminal. Riley was more compassionate, but still gloated a little about being right in his boyfriend's inability to fly halfway across the globe.

The third time Q took a different type of medication, something given to him by MI6 Medical. It was stronger and kicked in faster, and he actually made it all the way onto the plane. Then it started to move and all his seeming calmness flew right out the window. They threw  _him_ off the plane. Bond picked him up and made the call to a far more concerned Riley. Q was too rattled and embarrassed to call for himself. Riley told Bond to not let Q try again.

But Q was nothing if not stubborn. The fourth time he concluded that using commercial airlines was probably a terrible idea. Too many people crammed into that tiny space so far in the air, waiting to panic and stampede around if things went awry, thinking about that only compounded on Q's fears. A private plane was really more suitable to ease his anxiety. Besides, he wouldn't hurt people if wound up panicking again, and wouldn't embarrass himself nearly as much. It would only be him and the pilot. Oh, but who would be the pilot? It couldn't just be  _anyone_. Q could gain access to a plane whenever he wanted, but finding a trustworthy pilot would take far more time. He called Riley to explain the dilemma, telling him that he just needed to postpone his plans for a little while. Riley told him to stop, that it was okay, that he was fine flying to London. Q told him to shove it.

The fifth time (and it was a fifth even though it was really just a delay of the fourth because so many missions and so much time had passed between the two, making Q conveniently forget about his pilot hunt for awhile) Riley was rather bummed because it had been  _him_ who had cancelled a visit on Q. He'd been out running around with Ben on another expedition and had taken a bad fall, breaking his ankle in the process. Having to maneuver crutches on a plane where he couldn't prop up his leg properly for eight hours was just not something he was up for. With Ben needing to recruit Abigail to help finish the expedition, that left Riley to be checked in on occasionally by Ben's parents. They were family, but they weren't  _family_ , which meant poor Riley was injured, depressed, and mostly alone. Q couldn't have that, so he decided to throw caution to the wind and go to the only person with a pilot license who he trusted...even though said person had probably crashed more planes than he'd successfully flown. Still, he wouldn't crash it if Q was onboard. Bond was a little too attached to him for that. So, with a stronger dose of medication, his own plane (that he would never say how he got access to), and a pilot who was probably certifiably insane but who had somehow still managed to get in bed with Q on a regular basis, he was finally off to America. They made it, but not until after Bond had regretfully had to knock Q out mid-flight, strap him to his seat, and then once he woke up a short time later, had to spend the rest of the flight listening to him cry and beg and scream and hyperventilate before he'd pass out for a bit only to start the process all over again. Bond and Riley had spent Q's first day in America taking care of  _him_ instead of Q taking care of Riley. They booked boat passage for Q to get home, making M none too happy about the extended vacation that was required for the slower means of travel. Riley very firmly told Q not to do it again.

But, Q had actually enjoyed his little trip to the States, once his head was back on straight. He hadn't traveled much thanks to his phobia, and only to places that could be reached easily by train or shorter boat trips. There was so much to see in America, and he wanted to enjoy it when both he and Riley were healthy. So came the sixth time, still with a private plane, still with Bond as the pilot (after much bribery of shiny new tech for missions), and now with an entirely new regiment of medication. Riley had made a comment once about Q needing to be put into a coma for the flight. Well, he'd clearly been right. Q was about to safely dose himself quite thoroughly unconscious, thanks to MI6 Medical. The result? He slept like a...well, a coma patient, really, all the way through the flight, much to Bond's relief. And then kept sleeping. Bond carried him to the car, and then up to Riley's loft, and then straight to Riley's bed where he continued to sleep for another six hours before he woke up completely refreshed and ready to start the day. Except nothing was open because it was the middle of the freaking night and Bond and Riley were exhausted from worrying over him despite the fact that Medical said he was fine as long as his vitals all seemed normal. The rest of his vacation was spectacular, though, and he made certain to take a smaller dosage of the medication for the flight back.

The seventh time had Bond still carrying Q off the plane and settling him comfortably into the back of Riley's car. Q woke up on the way home with a yawn and a satisfied smile. "Seven times' the charm," he grinned, flashing a smirk at Bond, who had spent many a night helping him to figure out the exact dosage needed to make the trip go well without overdoing it. Charming Seven, indeed. Until he pointed out that now that Q could readily fly, M might be inclined to send him out to the field here and there as needed without having any hesitations about it. Q slapped the back of his hand at the same time that Riley backhanded him across the chest. Bond smirked and asked to be dropped off at a friend's house, since he  _wouldn't_ be needed to babysit his Quartermaster for the first day, for once. Riley didn't drop Bond off because he'd gotten used to having the agent around for at least a day before he and Q went galavanting around the city for the next several. Bond was okay with that.

And thus became the routine. Q would fly, but only with Bond, and the three would enjoy a day together, then Q and Riley were left alone to do as they pleased for awhile until it was time to leave, sometimes hooking back up with Bond for lunch or dinner in the interim. Then Riley would scoop up the agent from wherever he'd seen to bunk for his stay, drive them back to the airport while Q dosed himself into oblivion in the back seat, and then help Bond carry the unconscious man into the plane. 

"Still can't believe he does this for me," Riley shook his head as Bond gently strapped the sleeping Quartermaster in place.

"You'd do it for him," the agent replied with a shrug.

Riley quirked his head at 007. "So would you."

There was a pause. "Yes. I would."

Riley offered to let him stay at his place next time. It was only fair, considering all the trouble Bond had to go through with little to gain for himself (outside of the extra leave that Q managed to always squirrel away for him for these little trips). 

"I see him every day I'm not on mission," James replied with a shake of his head. "This is your time. I'm not going to intrude on it."

"And we aren't fighting, divorced parents trading a kid back and forth," Riley countered with a wry grin. "Stay next time. We're all besties. It won't be awkward. I promise."

"We'll see," Bond said, and left it at that.

Riley waved as he stepped back from the plane.

_We'll see._

~The End~


	9. New Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley struggles silently with an emotion he's never really experienced before - raw, bitter anger.

Riley did  _not_ get angry. Flustered he did well. Annoyed was well-practiced. Fear was something he had a fairly tight lid on, no matter how many times he squeaked or widened his eyes whenever he found himself on the wrong end of someone else's sour temper. This raw, bitter, simmering heat that had been roiling through his system for days, though? This was something he was entirely unfamiliar with and didn't quite know what to do about it. He hadn't had time to be angry when Q was in the hospital, too caught up in worry and grief to realize the silent pot of boiling rage that had been building up inside him and now threatened to spill over onto anything and anyone in his general range.

Except Q, of course. Riley kept it all locked down in the presence of Q.

The poison that had paralyzed his entire system, nearly killing him, was taking a long time to fully let go of its hold on the Quartermaster. Q was home now, but his muscles would still seize up on occasion, and he was still a little slow in some of his motions (frustrating him beyond belief when he couldn't type with his normal dexterity). Watching him constantly, seeing him struggle, assisting when Q when needed him to, it only helped to fuel Riley's anger into something decidedly dangerous that desperately needed to be directed somewhere before it destroyed him, except there was no one left to direct his anger  _to._ While Riley had been stuck to Q like tar all during his recovery, Bond had taken it upon himself to make absolutely certain that anyone even remotely involved with Q's near-assassination was "taken care of." There was, quite literally, no one left for Riley to be angry  _at._

Until he decided after Q had had a particularly rough day that someone really ought to punish the restaurant the two of them had been eating at when Q was poisoned. Bond had already swept through the whole place for direct responsible parties, but even if innocent, the incompetence of the rest of those who worked there really needed to be put in check. It was as Riley was furiously hacking away at any personal information of every person tied to the place that Q walked up and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, startling him and causing him to mistype his code. So deep in his hunger for revenge at that point and finally just having found an outlet, the small coding error was the last straw to tip him over the edge, causing him to almost growl deeply while he unexpectedly swept his arm against his laptop, sending it crashing to the ground. The act startled Q, in turn, and he nearly tripped over his feet as he jerked back away from his boyfriend. It was even more startling that Riley didn't move to try to catch him, just sat there with his elbows propped up on the table, his head in his hands as he took deep, huffing breaths.

"Riley?" Q questioned once he'd gotten his feet properly underneath him, using the same tone he often used when trying to calm down an overly-riled Double-oh agent. He got no reply, so he took a slow, careful step forward. "Riley, if you don't say something, I'm going to be forced to admit that you might be scaring me a little, which I'm sure is something neither of us wants."

That got Riley's attention, and after a few more seconds, he finally, slowly, let out one long breath and made himself calm down.

"I don't know what to do," he practically whispered. "I don't know how to not  _feel_ like this."

Q, sensing the immediate danger had passed, and feeling instantly guilty that he hadn't seen poor Riley's inner turmoil until now, shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around his partner's shoulders. Once in his solid embrace, Q could feel the way that Riley's muscles tensed and quivered with pent up energy. How long had he been like this?

"I'm sorry, darling," Q sighed into Riley's ear, and when his partner said nothing, he simply held him tightly until it seemed like he was calming down a bit. Only then did he loosen up and pull his cell out of his pocket, telling it to dial Bond so he didn't have to concern himself with trying to maneuver any buttons. "James," he started in his formal Quartermaster tone, "I have a mission for you." With a squeeze to his partner's shoulder, he explained to Bond in a mildly perturbed tone, "Well, since you didn't leave anything for Riley to demolish in my name, he's feeling a bit...pent up at the moment...Yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, Bond."

Two hours later, Riley sat on an exercise mat before a heavy bag, breathing heavily with exertion, but no longer feeling the rage suffocating him like it had been before.

"Now I know why you guys like to hit things," he huffed up at Bond.

James smirked. "Don't get used to it. I think Q might skin me alive if I turned you onto violence."

"This was his idea," Riley reminded him.

"Yes, but I don't think you were supposed to like it so much."

The hacker merely shrugged, his normally-easy smile back in place. "I like knowing how to hit something without breaking my fingers. With my track record, that might come in handy."

Bond laughed and helped Riley up off the floor, giving him a friendly slap on the back in the process. Before letting him go, he pulled him forward and muttered in his ear, "Don't bottle it up next time. You might hurt something more than your computer."

_Or someone_ ,  Riley filled in for him, and gave him an understanding nod. No, he did not like how bottled anger had made him feel, not one bit. Frustration he could do, annoyance he could brush off, and fear he could tolerate, but not this. Not rage. And if he ever felt this way again, Bond would be the first person he would call. The agent made him promise him that, and Riley would follow through, because who better to kill anger than a man with a license to kill, after all?

~The End~

 


	10. Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond returns to the apartment carrying an unconscious Riley in his arms, but it isn't what Q thinks.
> 
> "Calm down, Q, I didn't break him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I started strong, but clearly I failed miserably with this advent calendar concept, lol. Ah well, not like I wasn't writing anything, just doing whatever the hell the muse wanted at any time and she's fickle. So I'll just write these as they come. If I eventually make it to the 25, awesome! No one said they _had_ to be done by Christmas, after all. ;)

A knock on the door startled Q out of his work, but not so much because somebody knocked, but rather because it sounded more like someone was  _kicking_ his door. People kicking on a secret agent's door was never a good sign...especially when said secret agent wasn't even at home and thus the door being kicked wasn't actually his own. Had someone found him somehow, displaced all the way across the ocean (not that it was abnormal for Q to be there these days), or was somebody actually after Riley? The treasure-hunting hacker was more than capable, it seemed, of finding his own trouble without Q ever having entered the picture.

"Q, it's me, open the damn door!" Bond's very familiar, yet extremely annoyed voice, hollered.

Hearing his agent should've made the Quartermaster feel better, but it only served to spike his alarm about ten degrees higher. Bond had a code to Riley's apartment, so why wasn't he using it? And he was supposed to physically  _be_ with Riley, so where the hell was Q's boyfriend? 

His concern rising inch by inch with every step he took towards the door, Q opened it up only to have all his fears dutifully justified at the sight of 007 cradling Riley against his chest, the hacker looking so small and fragile in the agent's arms. 

"What happened?" Q asked, eyes widening as Bond pushed his way inside. He hovered anxiously while James crossed over to the couch and gently deposited his unconscious parcel, settling Riley onto the pillows like a father putting a child to sleep who had perhaps passed out playing video games on the floor. "Is he hurt? Should he be at the hospital?"

"Calm down, Q, I didn't break him," Bond groused, not seeming worried in the slightest. On second thought, he appeared a _little_  worried for about half a second until he traipsed over to the bathroom and returned with the empty trash bin, setting it on the floor by Riley's head. "When he wakes up, kindly inform him that he shouldn't play drinking games if he's going to get buggering pissed after two shots."

Q stood still for a moment processing the statement, then pressed his hand over his mouth to cover the smile growing there. Drunk. Bond had taken Riley to a bar not knowing how very incapable the hacker was of holding his alcohol. Well, that had probably been a priceless evening for the Quartermaster to have missed out on, seeing a double-oh agent trying to babysit a more hyper, more babbly, and far less-coordinated Riley Poole than he could be on a normal day. It was a miracle Bond brought him back in one peace and didn't outright kill him.

"It's not funny," Bond almost growled at him, then added in a mumble, "Your eyes smile more than your mouth does."

Well, cat was out of the bag now. Q dropped his hand and outright laughed, the sound of it serving to actually help soothe some of Bond's rattled nerves. The agent smirked and reached out for his Quartermaster in a half-assed attempt to grab him and tackle him down, but Q danced away easily enough.

"It's not  _my_ fault you took him to a bar," he continued to chuckle. "When I told you to entertain him for a few hours while I worked, that could've been as easy as buying him a ticket to the latest animated film."

"It was an arcade bar," James defended. "I figured we could both find our own blend of entertainment there. He was supposed to be off challenging the kiddies to Fruit Ninja or something while I drank in peace."

Q looked at his boyfriend with nothing but a sad sort of fondness. "Ben has been traveling a lot lately. I imagine Riley was seeking out friendly company more than mindless entertainment." He turned back to Bond with a curious tilt to his head. "What drinking game did you play?"

James snorted. " _The Expendables_ was on the bar tele. The game was to drink every time somebody died. His idea, not mine."

Q groaned. "He must've been smashed within the first ten minutes."

"Pretty much. Next time I'll just take him to Chuck E. Cheese."

A surprised smile lit up Q's face at that. "Next time? You'd be willing to do this again? Not that I'm planning on there being a next time, but you know MI6 has a tendency to call on me at the most inopportune times. Riley likes to help when he can, but it isn't always necessary, and I can't always get him the proper clearance, so..."

Bond didn't even hesitate. "Of course. Anything for you, Quartermaster. Besides, he isn't actually bad company." The frown returned to his lips. "Unless he's drunk. That is one thing we will  _not_ be doing again."

"No, I imagine not." Q stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around Bond's hands. "Would you like to stay and have a drink with someone who can hold their liquor a little better?" 

With Q's eyes sparkling with an almost giddy appreciation, Bond couldn't even pretend to want to say no to the offer. He wouldn't stay long, though, not with Riley passed out right there on the couch, partially out of respect and partially because he just didn't want to be around when the kid woke up. He was going to be a vomiting mess when that happened, and that was  _all_ on Q to handle. After all, that was what love was for, wan't it?

~The End~ 


End file.
